


Of Ale, Challenges and Bales of Hay

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin wants Gwaine. Arthur finds the idea rather exciting.</p><p><b>A/N:</b> Beta’d by the lovely <span></span><a href="http://bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com/"></a><b>bohemiabythesea</b>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ale, Challenges and Bales of Hay

  
\--

‘Come on, Merlin, live a little.’ Gwaine pushes a tankard of ale across the scrubbed wooden table, a cheerful challenge in his eyes. Some of the drink splashes over the rim of the mug on to Gwaine’s hand, and he raises it to his mouth and licks it off unselfconsciously. Merlin watches his tongue dart out of his mouth, pink and startling against his sun-darkened hand. He chases an elusive drop of ale with his tongue all down the length of his arm before finally licking it off his elbow, the gesture unspeakably filthy, and Merlin bites back a groan.

Arthur kicks him under the table, and Merlin closes his eyes briefly. Of course Arthur would realise what’s going on. Gathering his wits, he glances at Arthur to see a dazzling smile gracing his face, and wonders for the thousandth time why the prince has to be so ridiculously beautiful. Surely, destiny could have picked someone less distracting for him to protect. But no, that would have been too easy. If he had to look out for, say, Uther.

‘Well?’ Arthur’s voice breaks into his thoughts, mercifully distracting his imagination from taking him to the horrific task that would be helping Uther in and out of his bath. Amusement is dancing in Arthur’s eyes. He nods toward the ale. ‘Are you _up_ for a fourth round?’

Oh, the devil. Merlin decides then and there that he’ll have Arthur begging for mercy later that night. ‘Never could resist a challenge, Sire,’ he says, meeting Gwaine’s eyes across the table as he swallows half his drink in two gulps. Beneath the table, Arthur’s hand gives his knee a quick, warm squeeze, and Merlin covers it briefly with his own. Gwaine is still watching him with that look in his eyes, the corners of his lips quirking.

The rest of the evening is spent in cheerful drunken banter, and Arthur and Merlin detach themselves from the rest as the knights disband. They stroll back to the castle in companionable silence, Merlin’s mind on Arthur, on Gwaine, on why his life always seems so bloody _complicated_. Arthur sets a brisk pace and their hands brush against each other’s every so often as they walk, sending familiar little shivers of desire down Merlin’s spine and making his cock stir in anticipation.

They’ve barely entered Arthur’s bedchamber when Merlin finds himself pinned against the door, Arthur’s mouth hot and demanding against his, a long, lean thigh forcing his legs apart and pushing up against his cock. ‘You frightful little tease,’ Arthur growls into his mouth. Merlin is already half-befuddled by lust, and his brain takes a moment to note Arthur’s words.

‘What’d I do?’ he gasps as Arthur rips his breeches open. ‘It was _Gwaine_ who—’ He bites back the rest of his protest with a heartfelt moan as Arthur’s hand closes around his cock and begins stroking him firmly, mercilessly.

‘You’re _both_ frightful little teases,’ Arthur amends obligingly, stroking upwards, twisting his hand deftly. Merlin abandons all pretence at coherence, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck, his fingers clutching at the ridiculously silky hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur works him spectacularly, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over Merlin’s throat and face and ears as he whispers the most glorious filth Merlin has ever heard. ‘Want to see you with him, Merlin. Want to watch him fuck your brains out.’

‘Oh, _god_ ,’ Merlin says, desperate with need. ‘Tell me how, Arthur, please, just talk, don’t stop talking, _pleaseArthurplease_.’

‘In the stables,’ Arthur says, voice hoarser now. He frees his own cock and shoves it against Merlin’s, taking them both in hand, Merlin nearly howling with pleasure as they begin to thrust together into the tight channel of Arthur’s hand. ‘You over a bale of hay, on your back, your legs wrapped around his waist. That’s _it_ , Merlin, move like that, just like that, oh _fuck_. On your back, taking his cock, _begging_ for it like a filthy little slut. Oh fuck, Merlin, I’m going to—’

Their mouths crash together as they chase their release, Merlin’s blood pounding in his ears, and all there is is Arthur, and Gwaine, and Arthur _watching_ Gwaine’s cock thrusting in and out of Merlin’s arse, and Arthur filling his mouth with his cock, and Gwaine laughing with approval and delight, both cocks using him simultaneously until he’s _mad_ with lust and need, and screaming, _screaming_ with ecstasy, until the intensity of it blinds him and he’s falling, falling into Arthur’s arms.

‘Easy,’ Arthur says, unmindful of their mingled release on his hand as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist and holds him up. He rests his forehead against Merlin’s, their breaths still ragged. Arthur’s hands run over Merlin’s back in broad, soothing strokes, calming him, coaxing the frenzied images in his mind into a safer place.

Merlin loosens his fingers in Arthur’s hair, combing through it slowly, scratching gently at Arthur’s scalp. ‘That was,’ he says, and leans in to kiss Arthur gently on the lips, still stroking his hair.

‘Yeah,’ Arthur says against his mouth, and Merlin feels his lips curve into a smile. ‘It was.’


End file.
